


Let It Snow

by thefraserwitch



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Complete, F/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, one bed trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:55:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefraserwitch/pseuds/thefraserwitch
Summary: J/C unexpectedly meet during a long layover at an airport. Instant connection between them (in the Ka-BOOM! magnitude. Please pretty please!





	1. Chapter 1

_**Let It Snow**_

 

_Scotland, February 2018_

 

Oh the weather outside certainly was _frightful_... Scotland hadn’t seen a blizzard like this in decades. Schools and businesses alike had shut down, most roadways had closed, and all of the flights had been grounded, leaving many passengers stranded including one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

 

 _“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”_ She hissed as her flight - the last flight to Logan Airport, her only remaining hope of making it to Boston - changed status from delayed to cancelled. On the arrivals and departures board, the angry red letters flashed, taunting Claire as a reminder of her ruined, snow-laden hopes and dreams. She had no chance of making it to the conference in time now. From the deep recesses of her mind, a soft yet annoying voice reminded her _‘Maybe next year...’_

 

She wanted to punch the source of such a saccharine sentiment square in the jaw and tell it to bigger off. Instead, she sighed as her shoulders shrugged in utter defeat before picking up her briefcase and heading towards the exit.

 

Outside, the storm was gaining momentum. A thick layer of snow blanketed the ground, and flakes fell heavily in fat, wet drops, clinging to Claire’s eyelashes and making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of her. The fierce and blustery winter winds blew, kicking up treacherous snow drifts in their wake and making Claire shiver in their icy blasts.

 

Shielding her eyes from the falling precipitation, Claire placed a hand to her forehead and craned her neck upwards in search of a ride to the nearest hotel. There was nary soul in sight on this frigid winters night. With so few roads open strictly for emergency personnel only, Claire wondered if there would be any drivers brave enough to brace this fierce winter storm for a measly cab fare.

 

With no hope in sight, she wondered if she should simply relegate herself to spending the night in the airport. The airline still had her checked luggage, so she’d be sleeping in her suit set regardless, but given her druthers, she’d rather sleep on a dingy hotel mattress than the hard airport floor. Defeated once more, Claire turned over her right shoulder towards the terminal entrance, when something caught her eye.

 

It was a rather large mass of snow, lumpy and slightly car-shaped with a tiny gleam of sunshine yellow peeking out by the tail light. A man - a rather tall one at that sporting a large trench now nearly covered in snow - opened the back, passenger side door to the car. He leaned down, his head disappearing behind the snowy curtain of the door to speak to the driver before straightening up to his full height. Claire’s heart hammered behind her ribs as adrenaline flooded her veins.

 

It was a _taxi_. And not just _any_ taxi. It was possibly the _last_ taxi in Glasgow. _And she needed to be on it_.

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, she took off bounding through the snow. Even in the best circumstances, dressed in layers of warm clothing with proper footwear, Claire was not well suited for snow, but in this moment, dressed in a pant suit and heels, she was utterly screwed. The heavy flakes weighed down her legs as she trudged through the knee-deep banks, and her arms flailed awkwardly to the sides to help maintain her balance. Her voice warbled as she cried _“Wait!”_ in hopes the driver could hear her over the wailing winds.

 

As she approached the vehicle, the snow shrunk in height only to reveal a treacherous walkway covered in thick sheets of ice. In her haste, Claire didn’t catch the light gleaming against the slick surface of the sidewalk. All she saw was the cab, getting ready to take its one passenger away and leaving her stranded. She sprinted, in one last ditch effort to reach her salvation... only for her the smooth sole of her Manolo’s to catch the ice, sending her slipping and sliding directly into the man at the back of the cab.

 

Together, they crashed into the back side of the car with a dull thud, their cries muffled by the thick falling snow.

 

 _“Bloody fuck!”_ Claire screamed. “I am so sorry! Are you alright?”

 

The man cursed, a guttural sound low in his throat in some strange language she didn’t understand. Slowly, they stood, disentangling their limbs and bracing themselves on the trunk as not to slip again. Claire brushed the excess snow from her coat and padded her limbs, checking for any sign of injury before turning to her new companion... who was now laughing at her.

 

“Aye, I’m fine, lass..” the Scot chuckled as he brushed the snow off of his blue jeans. “I just wasn’t bracin' to to be tackled for the last cab ‘tis all.”

 

Claire eyed the man with suspicion as her cheeks flushed red - from the cold or her immense embarrassment from the situation she wasn’t entirely sure. She was already beyond flustered after nearly bludgeoning him to death with her brief case during their collision, and here was her victim - nearly giggling in the wake of the accident. “Are you ...laughing… at me?” Claire huffed as she unsuccessfully tried to flip her now soaking wet curls over her shoulder. The Scot only continued to howl.

 

“Och aye - I most certainly am!” He wheezed as another fit of giggles over took him, his large frame shaking with mirth.

 

Claire’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to the laughing fiend. They stood toe to toe, and she peered up into his face with the meanest scowl she could muster… only for the Scot to somber himself with a soft smile gracing his lips.

 

“Ah - I’m sorry, lass. I dinna mean any disrespect. It’s just that you shot towards me like a bullet in those ridiculous heels, yer hair -" he paused then to tuck a loose tendril behind her ear with such tenderness Claire thought her heart might stop, “- flying wildly in the wind, cursin’ an’ screechin’ like a banshee sent straight from hell -"

 

As the Scot’s description turned mocking once more, she tried to pull away, jerking backwards only for the man to deftly capture her wrist in his grasp. He smiled at her with a playful glint sparkling behind his eyes. Claire wondered what secret thoughts lay hidden behind his charismatic expression as he continued to tease her.

 

“...only for you to fall square on top of me weighin’ as much as a draught horse -”

 

She smacked him with her free hand, the back of her hand batting against his chest with a sharp _thwack_. He recoiled from her assault, an exaggerated _oof_ escaping his lips in feigned injury. When he straightened himself upright, his eye caught hers, and the entire world stood still with a million snowflakes swirling about their heads as if they were frozen miniatures trapped inside a snow globe.

 

Suddenly, he shook his head with a small laugh as he spoke, “Och, I’m only teasin ye, Sassenach.”

 

When he smiled at her, Claire felt warmth pool deep within her belly and her heart falter within her chest like a hummingbird.

 

“I _know_ ,” she whispered, rocking forward on her toes as she reached to touch the spot on his forehead where her briefcase struck. “I’m sorry I hit you… would you mind sharing your cab…?”

 

Her voice trailed off in an expectant pause, her words lingering in hope that she might spend more time with this charming stranger. His eyes hadn’t strayed from hers, and they still didn’t when his fingers moved from her wrist to trap her fingers within his. In an unexpected act of chivalry, he bent his head, pressing his warm lips to her knuckles before he spoke.

 

“Nah… I dinna mind… and ye can call me Jamie.”


	2. Chapter 2

_This fire is **so** delightful_, Claire thought as she nestled deeper into the soft confines of the oversized armchair. In the hearth before her, the roaring flames crackled and danced, pumping the room full of heat and warming her frozen skin. Though when she truly thought about it, her senses had been lit aflame ever since Jamie had kissed her hand outside of the airport.

Something happened when his skin met hers... something unusual. When his lips brushed against her knuckles, Claire had felt it - as if a fuse had been lit and left long burning through the whole cab ride to the hotel. It might have been a fifteen minute drive at most, but to her, it had been an eternity of uncomfortable silence punctuated by stolen glances. With one touch, this stranger - this Jamie - had left her lungs gasping for air, her pulse pounding in her ears, and a primal need pooling deep in her belly.

When the driver announced their arrival, his loud and brash voice cutting through the static silence, Claire had nearly jumped clean out of her skin. Her body jerked suddenly to attention at the course interruption, her elbow slamming down on to the armrest with a sickening crunch. She hissed as the tingling sensation of pins and needles flooded her forearm. Completely distracted with her injury, she hadn’t noticed the door beside her opening until Jamie was above her, softly chuckling at her disheveled state.

“ _Must_ you keep doing that? Laughing at me?” She demanded bluntly, hoping her feigned pride would mask the furious blush that bloomed on her cheeks.

He shook his head as he offered his hand, helping her out of the car. His eyes squinted as he smiled, dancing with mirth, and with a large duffle slung easily over his shoulder, he exuded an effortless, boyish charm.

She accepted, skin meeting skin again igniting the flame anew. As she exited the cab, she stood toe to toe with the Scot once more, searching his face for any clues that he too felt that very same spark.

“Nay, Sassenach... I dinna mean to. It’s just that... “ Jamie stuttered and paused, chewing on his lip as he thought over his words. “I find yer clumsiness to be pretty damn _adorable_ \- if it’s nae too bold to say.”

His admission rendered Claire speechless and sent her heart pounding, furiously drumming a tattoo against her ribs. When she failed to respond, Jamie shrugged as he offered her a half-hearted smile, the corner of his mouth upturned in a lopsided smirk. She found his candor endearing, and with his heart clearly worn on his sleeve, Claire thought she might melt at his adorable confession.

_Maybe, this blizzard was a good thing after all,_ she thought. She gave his hand a squeeze and nodded as Jamie’s face split into a thousand watt smile.

“Come,” he urged, pulling her towards the hotel entrance, “If we dinna hurry, we’ll end up sleepin’ out here in a snowbank!”

After they secured the last remaining rooms in the hotel ( _Thank God_ ), Claire made a beeline for the hotel lounge in search of a cozy seat by the fire. While her clothes had mostly dried, the snow had left her chilled to the bone, and she so wished to feel her toes again.

The bar, the lounge, and the restaurant were overflowing with fellow misplaced travelers, and Claire knew seating would be hard to come by. Surveying the room, she spotted an elderly couple vacating the two wing back chairs just in front of the hearth and darted to stake her claim.

Claire carelessly tossed her briefcase on the empty chair, warding away any unwanted or undesirable company. She shed her outer layers - first her charcoal, wool pea coat, then her blazer, then her heels - before settling into her cozy seat with her stockinged feet resting on the hearth and basking in the fire’s glow. Wave after heated wave washed over her, warming her cold and tired limbs. Sinking deeper into her chair, she closed her eyes and sighed in perfect contentment, completely ignorant to the soft thump of a duffle bag hitting the carpet just behind her.

“Is this seat taken, Sassenach?”

Claire’s eyes flew open as she bolted upright, her heels colliding with the wood floor below with a painful _thud_. She turned in her chair, her angry gaze glaring daggers at whoever disturbed her peace. She collapsed into her chair, thrusting her chin towards the ceiling and slamming the back of her head into the chair in pure frustration... only to find Jamie smiling above her.

His damp hair was slicked back, the moisture darkening his red locks into a deep auburn hue. One rebellious curl sprung free and twisted against his forehead lingering just above his left eye. Claire’s fingers itched to reach up and smooth it back into place. She followed the line of his brow downward, admiring the sharp lines of his cheek bones, taking note of the scar slashed downwards just below his right eye, observing the smattering of stubble along his strong jawline.

_Christ, he was beautiful_ , she thought.

While she was completely absorbed in memorizing every last inch of his face, she nearly missed the bottle in his hand. The firelight reflected off the glass, which sparkled in the dim evening light of the lounge.

“Well…” she drawled, shifting in her chair and angling herself in a way that offered Jamie a generous view of her from above, “...that depends…”

“Oh? On what?” He snorted softly.

“If you plan on sharing that bottle of whisky with me or not...”

Jamie grinned widely as he produced two glasses from behind his back. Claire returned the smile, removed her briefcase, and patted the seat open seat next to hers.

“By all means then, have a seat, soldier.”


	3. Chapter 3

_The fire was slowly dying_ , the dwindling flames casting a warm amber glow around the room. The overhead lights had dimmed slowly with each passing hour, encouraging the guests to vacate the common areas of the hotel.

 

Just as the raging snow storm outside tapered off to a few desolate flurries, patrons peeled off one by one in search of the comfort of their cozy beds. When the clock chimed out the late hour, the only guests still awake to hear its eleven loud gongs echoing out throughout the quiet lounge were James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp.

 

Pairs to a set, they mirrored each other perfectly: sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and matching smiles. The fire had warmed their hearts and the whisky loosened their tongues as they got to know one another, slowly peeling back the layers one by one until their very souls were bared:

 

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a true Brit by blood, but she liked to think of herself as a citizen of the world. Orphaned at the age of five, she was raised by her Uncle Lamb, an archaeologist who traveled the globe in search of new discoveries from ancient civilizations. She fell so much in love with the world around her and all of its people that when it came to chose her career, the choice was obvious: she was meant to care for, to heal, to serve others. She served years in the Peace Corps and volunteered with Doctors Without Borders. Most recently, she found her purpose conducting a ground-breaking study ( _that Jamie pretended to understand_ ) in Uganda, which is why she was headed to Boston - to present her findings. She’d been engaged once before, but it didn’t last. Her beau, an Oxford professor of history, was determined to domesticate her to some stereotypical housewife… but she was too wild to be tamed.

 

James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser was a native Scot hailing from a small village called Broch Mordha. The youngest of three children ( _older siblings Jenny and William_ ), he was the most precocious of the bunch. While nothing on earth could make him sit still as a child, he found solace in language, literature and writing after losing both of his parents before he was of age. At twenty-nine he was a Pulitzer Prize winning author, with both Broadway and Hollywood calling for the rights to transform his work from the page to the stage, or respectively the screen." They had lured him - the lone bachelor - in with promises of a true Scottish lass named MacKenzie only to be presented with a wee blonde waif of a thing who would never pass as his heroine. For the story he told was of his parents great love affair, and in order to do it justice, he’d need a grown woman, not a wee lassie as Hollywood had shown him.

 

But just now, as Jamie told the story of his most beloved fairytale to her by the hearth, Claire wished it would never be replicated. She longed for this to be the only telling of the tale for this was its only habitat: a true Scotsman weaving the tale ( _as only Scots story tellers could_ ) before a roaring fire ( _the flickering flames acting his words as they danced_ ) with whisky to widen the storyteller’s grand imagination and open the listener’s imagination to the impossible.

 

Falling into the cushioned back of her chair in laughter, Claire sighed as she caught her breath. She admired the man next to her, his face changing into a variety of exaggerated expressions to match his story. With each raise of his brow or tilt of his lips, she found her mind wandering… wondering how the stubble on his cheek might feel against her skin… imagining how his lips might taste when they brushed against her own...

 

“Well… I think we’ve run out of whisky…” Jamie’s voice broke through her reverie as he dangled the empty bottle playfully in front of his face.

 

“it _is_ getting late,” Claire giggled, as warm blush bloomed on her cheeks fueled by the liquor and fanned by her embarrassment. “Should we go to bed?”

 

He placed the bottle back down on the table before leaning towards her with his forearms braced on the arm of the chair and his face looming dangerously close to hers. He nodded then and quirked his one eyebrow.

 

“To _bed_... or to _sleep_?”

 

When his words reached her ears, Claire choked on their meaning. She doubled over as a sputtering half cough, half laugh erupted from her lungs. Once she regained the ability to breathe, she straighten in her chair and dabbed away the tears that prickled now at the corners of her eyes with a delicate flick of her fingers. She turned to look at Jamie once more only to find him… _looking_ … at her with a closed lip smile and his eyes shining with what could only be interpreted as a bashful eagerness that she found so _bloody_ endearing.

 

“I’m only teasin’ ye, Sassenach,” Jamie admitted quietly. “But… I have enjoyed spendin’ time wi’ ye tonight… verra much… an’ I’d love to see ye again… if yer interested.”

 

Claire’s heart skipped and thundered to life, beating so loudly in her own ears she swore the hotel guests twelve floors above them could probably hear it. She nodded slightly as she offered him her mobile, and she took his in turn. As her fingers deftly punched her number into his contacts, she debated asking him to spell that foreign word he’d called her earlier but instead opted for plain, old Claire Beauchamp to save herself any further embarrassment.

 

Once they’d returned returned their devices to their rightful owner, Jamie stood and offered his hand, helping her out of her comfortable chair. He took her hand in his, and as she stood, Claire felt the world sway on its axis. Her knees buckled beneath her and her vision blurred with only one sight ( _a red-headed Scot_ ) remaining in focus before her.

 

“Easy there, lass,” Jamie murmured as he snaked an arm around her waist to steady her. “Mind if I walk ye to yer room? Ye’ve had yer fair share of whisky, and it’d make me feel better to ken ye got there safe an’ sound.”

 

Although his offer felt suspicious in comparison to similar advances made by other men ( _who usually tried to find a way into her pants_ ), Claire nodded. There was an oddly familiar and comforting feeling she found in Jamie’s embrace. While her stubbornly, independent mind would normally tell her to run, her heart won out in her addled state.

 

Jamie ushered them through the now empty hotel lobby. While Claire had liked to imagine they had made their exit with the grace and dignity of ballroom dancers, the loud staccato echoes of their stumbling steps on the polished marble punctuated by their obnoxious, boozy giggles proved to be the total opposite of refinement. They carried on in their raucous nature as they waited for the lift and - once the doors opened to reveal the wood-clad cubicle - collapsed into their own respective and opposite corners with their laughter fading into quiet sighs.

 

“Which floor?” Jamie asked as he navigated their destination. “

 

Seventh,” Claire answered between gasps as she caught her breath between fits of laughter.

 

“Ah… me too.”

 

The serendipity that their rooms were on the same floor dawned on Claire as the elevator doors closed, encapsulating the pair in a vacuum which rendered them both entire sober and utterly silent. From her own little corner, she eyed Jamie through hooded lashes. His long arms were splayed wide behind him, propping himself upright. His large hands gripped the steel rails, his long fingers easily circling the metal tubes. As she noted the infinitesimal measurements of his limbs, she couldn’t help but imagine how they’d feel against… around… _inside of her_. As they slowly climbed each story, the tiny cab only seemed to be shrinking by the minute. The temperature in the small space only rose with each passing moment until Claire found herself subconsciously fanning her face and lifting her heavy curls from her neck to find some blessed relief from this heat.

 

With a polite and subtle _ding_ , the life doors sprung open and Claire launched herself towards freedom. She fled down the hallway with small, harried steps as she almost blindly followed the signage towards her room. Engrossed in finding the safety of her own hotel room, she ignored the sound of Jamie’s voice, which only seemed to be growing louder and louder as she reached her final destination. She swiftly fished her room key from her purse, and she was about to unlock the door when a large hand closed over her wrist.

 

“Claire…” Jamie whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “What are ye doing?”

 

Jerking, she wrenched her hand out of his grasp as she shouted, “I’m going to bed… will you **_LET GO?!”_**

 

As Claire struggled against him, he only grabbed her shoulders forcing her to remaking still. Once she settled, Jamie unearthed his own room key from his breast pocket and held it out to her in his open palm, the familiar numbers swimming before her as her vision blurred.

 

“This is **_my_ **room.”

 

_Oh God..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie & Claire discuss their predicament in the hallway outside their hotel room

_Oh God, Oh God, **OH GOD!**_

 

Claire’s gaze shifted rapidly from the keys in Jamie’s outstretched hand to the set pinched between her fingers and back again. Her vision blurred, her surroundings swaying and swirling into a watery mix of colors and shapes. Her heart beat heavily against her chest in a steady yet constant pounding drum-roll that only heightened expectations: _of what was inside that hotel room… of what would happen once they opened that door… of who they would become afterwards…_ All of these equally terrifying thoughts raced through her head, leaving her terrified and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice except...

 

_She had nowhere else to go…_

 

“I… I’ll go ask the front desk if they have another room…” she stuttered as she shook her head, her eyes cast downward refusing to look Jamie in the face.

 

Briefcase in hand, she started down the hallway once more with the elevator as her main destination. She’d only taken one step before strong hands grasped her shoulders, firmly holding her in place.

 

“We were both in that lobby, Sassenach,” Jamie reminded her as he dipped his chin down to meet her gaze. “There was no’ a soul in sight, and even if there were, this was probably the last room available…”

 

Realizations ( _ones that started with his hands tangled in her curls and ended with his face buried between her thighs_ ) of her present situation slowly dawned on Claire, and before she could decide on a number of scenarios ( _others that started with him walking away from her forever, ending them before they could ever truly begin_ ) that played out in her mind, Jamie was choosing for her. He bowed down to retrieve the duffel bag he’d dropped at her feet. With careful steps placed slowly one after the other, he backed away from her, his eyes tracing the outline of her figure up and down as if he were committing her to memory.

 

He was _leaving_ , and while Claire would’ve normally found his chivalry _endearing_ , in this moment she was having absolutely none of it.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded.

 

“Back downstairs…” he shrugged as he continued walking towards the elevators. “The sofas in the lounge seemed comfortable enough. I can bide there until morning.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’ll freeze!” Claire argued.

 

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” he called over his shoulder, turning towards the elevator lobby.

 

As Jamie walked down the hall, Claire felt herself split into two equal halves of a whole. Her head and her heart were divided, bitterly arguing a case that each side swore was purely black and white instead of a million different shades of grey. Before her mind could issue its silencing argument, her heart won out.

 

 _“Wait!”_ She cried, calling after him as she dropped her briefcase.

 

The leather-bound luggage ricocheted off the baseboard and onto the floor. The slapping sounds loudly echoed down the empty hall, though they were the only two awake who might be disturbed by such a clatter. At the resounding racket, he turned to face her. Together, they eyed the littered cargo ( _which had now fallen silent and still in the middle of the hallway_ ), and only once they’d determined the baggage would remain fixed and locked tight did their eyes flash upwards. Her glance and his gaze simultaneously latched onto one another.

 

The whole world paused in stillness, buried in layers of snow that trapped them here under the weight of this surreal magnetism that drew them to this very moment. The walls contracted and expanded with their matching breaths, ballooning to unfathomable volumes with leagues of space between them and then narrowing to impossible closeness. Claire swore her fingers brush Jamie’s wrist ( _finding his pulse just below his palm and feeling its racing beat match the frenetic tempo of her own_ ) despite still being meters apart. He’d turn to face her once more, and unbeknownst to her, he crept closer only moving in the spaces between each passing second when her eyes fluttered closed as she blinked.

 

When he finally stood before her, his lips hovering mere inches from hers, Claire suddenly grew bold, the whisky flooding her veins and fueling her confidence. She cocked her hip, shifting her weight to her right leg.

 

“I’m not about to let you sleep downstairs when there could be a couch or even a second bed in that room…”

 

Jamie balked at her bluntness as he stuttered, his mouth struggling and stumbling over various refusals that left him utterly tongue tied. A blush stained his cheeks as his eyes darted from the opposite wall of the corridor, to the ceiling, to the adjacent wall, and down to the floor in a constant loop. His fingertips tapped against his thigh, drumming a syncopated staccato in time with the endless cycle of his thoughts.

 

“What?” Claire asked with a small smirk gracing her lips, her hand reaching out to still his nervous fingers and grasping them within her own. _“No one has to know…”_

 

She silenced him with her finger pressed against his lips as she deftly flashed her key card against the lock. The electronic gears clicked, tumbling into place and releasing the door handle from its stationary position. Claire firmly grasped the metal lever within her fingers and jerked the handle downward, forcing the heavy slab back to reveal the room hidden behind it.

 

Light from the corridor flooded the entryway in sharp contrast to the dark belly of the room beyond the front hallway. Claire’s heels clicked against the tile, echoing through the static silence. Through the darkness, she could barely recognize the large yet nondescript pieces of typical hotel furniture. Just as her eyes began to adjust to the deep purple midnight shadows, Jamie flipped the light switch upwards and the lights flickered to life, illuminating the serendipitous scenario before them:

 

A bathroom to their right ( _all polished, shiny, and bright smelling of eucalyptus and lavender_ ). A chest of drawers with a TV above it ( _both equally empty, void of any content physical, stimulating, or otherwise_ ). A desk in the corner equipped with hotel stationary ( _to send warm thoughts to loved ones at home even in the age of mobile phones and FaceTime_ ).

 

And a bed ( _just the one_ ).

 

Its queen sized frame dominated the small room with just enough space for two petite nightstands built into the headboard balanced on either side of the mattress. Matching sconces hovered, suspended on swinging arms ready to illuminate late night novels or Netflix binges until the bed’s inhabitants simultaneously flipped their switches for the night. Twin sets of pillows huddled beneath the coverlet, cozy and plump waiting for two heads to rest upon them as they tumbled into cozy sheets ready for sleep… or only just to _bed_ perhaps...

 

So many coordinating pairs decorated this singular entity that they only emphasized the rather obvious and unpropitious fact that this room had _only **one** bed._

 

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's simple really... there's only one bed

_There was only **one** bed. _

 

Claire was entirely at a loss for words. She tried to conjure them, but in her nervousness, a fog had settled over her mind, making her forget any knowledge of every language she had ever known. The few words that made the perilous journey from her brain to her mouth died before they could even become the smallest whispers. They choked her, strangling her and making her head spin from the lack of oxygen to her brain; they stuck to the rough of her mouth, tripping her tongue as if she’d just been chewing sticky salt water taffy.

 

Any confidence Claire had in the hallway had fled once she’d opened that door. Her bravado had been rendered a total sham at the sight of a single mattress. Without the aid of a sofa bed or even a second queen, they were left at the mercy of a _solitary_ king. The expanse of such a mattress was wide enough that they would have plenty of room to retreat to their own private corners should they wish… And yet close enough that if she reached out for him, she would find him within her grasp and herself within his. Lurid thoughts flooded her senses: of her fingertips gripping his strong shoulders… of her nails scratching his skin as she lost herself… of his forearm wrapped tightly around her waist pulling her close to him… of the feel of his breath against her neck as they slept...

 

_Deep breaths, Beauchamp._

 

“It’ll be fine…” Claire finally managed to squeak out as she tried to steady her breathing. “We’re both adults. We can sleep next to each other. It’ll be _just fine._ ”

 

_Just fine._

 

That was one way of putting it. They would be sharing a bed, sleeping side by side with not much between them besides paper thin hotel sheets and flimsy pajamas. Claire blushed at the thought of Jamie seeing her in her worn Oxford t-shirt ( _the one with the hole in the thread bare collar_ ), her pill-ridden sweatpants ( _the ancient pair she reserved for lazy Sundays_ ), and her humiliating yet oh so cozy socks ( _the ones Joe had gotten her with her cat Adso’s face printed in a polka dotted pattern over a nearly hospital scrub teal background_ ). Her embarrassment distracted her so that she barely heard her companion’s response took her by surprise.

 

“Och, aye,” Jamie snorted. “An’ I supposed ye packed yer flannel jammies in yer wee briefcase?”

 

She nearly choked on her response in surprise. “My _what?!_ ”

 

_**Oh.** _

 

The leather briefcase felt suddenly heavy as if it were filled with lead. The smooth handle slipped against Claire’s sweaty palm while her mind raced through a list of its contents: a copy of her presentation notes ( _to review mid flight_ ), her laptop ( _to study case files… but mostly for binging Netflix_ ), a packet of gum ( _to relieve her ears on the ascent_ ), and a dozen other odds and ends that lived in the small piece of luggage. However, there was nothing resembling a change of clothes in that bag.

 

She coughed suddenly in a desperate attempt to disguise her awkward discomfort, which only highlighted her nerves. Her cheeks burned red as her eyes darted from one side of the room to the next. Her heart raced.

 

“‘Tis fine, Sassenach,” Jamie said with a small smile. “I’ve an extra shirt ye can borrow.”

 

Kneeling to the floor, Jamie unzipped his bag and began rifling through various levels of garments from blue jeans to socks to terribly wrinkled blazers. He finally retrieved a shirt ( _simple and plain_ ) from the depths of his bag. When the shirt passed from his hands to hers, their fingers touched and the fuse was lit. Claire felt it spreading hot and furious like a wildfire, smoldering deep in her belly. If Jamie felt it too - that delicious yet insatiable need - he kept his emotions in check with no more pomp or circumstance than a slight nod before retreating down the short hallway towards the bathroom with his bag in tow.

 

“I’ll gi’ ye the room to change...” Jamie said as he paused in the doorway. His eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze locking with hers for a second longer than absolutely necessary. He swiftly disappeared behind the door, which he shut tightly behind him, and the sound of rushing water crashed through the silence.

 

Claire stood dumbfounded alone in the tiny hotel room with Jamie’s shirt hanging limp in her hands. The white cotton was soft against her skin, buttery and smooth after being washed and worn repeatedly in some never-ending cycle only promised to the most blessed articles of clothing. She pressed the cloth to her lips as she sighed deeply, allowing the scent of him ( _crisp mountain air from bagging a munro… freshly baled hay in the barn at his ancestral family homestead… the lingering spices from the whisky they’d shared by the fire_ ) to wash over her.

 

Without much thought, Claire toed off her heels and removed her clothes, slowly undressing down to her undergarments. Once she had removed her bra, she pulled Jamie’s shirt over her head. The slip of fabric hung loosely on her thin frame and the hem fell to the middle of her thigh. She spied her reflection in the mirror above the desk: her riotous curls framing her face, her cheeks stained pink in her inebriated state ( _though whether she was drunk from the whisky or Jamie she wasn’t entirely certain_ ), and her nipples pebbled beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The instantaneous intimacy of her present situation dawned on her, sending a thrill of excitement and sheer panic through her veins.

 

Suddenly, the water turned off, the door to the bathroom opened, and Jamie reappeared. He too had changed from his jeans and button down to a simple white t-shirt ( _just like the one he had offered Claire_ ) and plaid pajama pants slung dangerously low on his hips. When he raised his arms to run a towel over his freshly washed tresses, the flat plane of his low belly exposed itself. Claire couldn’t turn away as she followed the trail of auburn curls from his belly button to where they disappeared below the waistband of his pants, imagining how his silken skin might feel against her hands…

 

The bathroom door slammed shut, jolting Claire back to the present as Jamie walked towards her. His steps were slow, perfectly in time with the heavy, lust-laden beats of her heart. His eyes locked with hers, his piercing gaze pinning her to the spot. As he crept closer, she felt as if her knees would give way all together once he finally reached his final destination… but when Jamie finally stood in front of the bed, he stopped still in his tracks. He made no move to peel back the coverlet nor charming remarks of bed bugs biting or promises sweet dreams.

 

“Shouldn’t we go to bed?” Claire asked lamely, her voice breathy and thin.

 

He didn’t answer her at first. He only sighed deeply, his exhale whistling through his nose like the steam from a boiling kettle. He chewed his bottom lip as a million thoughts turned over in his mind and tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh as if to count them all equally before reaching his final decision.

 

“Claire…” he said after an eternity of silence “...if I get into that bed wi’ ye’ I won’t be able to keep my hands off of ye…”

 

Within two long strides, Jamie quickly crossed the room, closing the space between them. He pulled her close, one arm snaking around her waist while his free hand gathered her loose curls in his grasp. Before Claire could even register what was happening, his lips were sealed to hers. Instantly roused, her body answered his call, bending and arching towards him as his tongue swept against her lower lip seeking entrance. He traced a trail of kisses along her jawline until his teeth grazed her earlobe, sending her reeling in ecstasy as he whispered his lust filled desires against her skin.

 

_“I want ye so much I can scarcely breathe… will ye have me?”_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only one bed... *le gasp*... what will happen? NSFW

_“I want ye so much I can scarcely breathe… will ye have me?”_

 

Seconds slowly ticked by, trickling into a small eternity as Claire measured the weight of Jamie’s request. His words nestled into a neat bundle in the palm of her hand but his meaning weighed heavily on her heart as he pulled away from her. The touch of his lips still burned her as if they’d seared his brand on her very skin. With eyes closed, she could feel him, his lips hovering just above hers, his breath warm on her cheek with every exhalation. She wanted nothing more than to grab him, tug at his pretty red curls, and pull his lips down onto her own.

 

_But would she have him?_

 

Her mind raced, numbering each and every reason she shouldn’t do - let alone want -this. It was impulsive, reckless, and bloody stupid, and yet every nerve within her body thrummed with need, proving the exact opposite. There wasn’t a valid excuse nor damning consequence that could assuage her desire. Instead, she welcomed it as she closed the little space left between them.

 

 _“Yes…”_ Claire sighed in the breaths between their kisses, _“...yes, I **will** …” _

 

They were a tangle of limbs ( _fingers, arms, legs_ ) as they quickly tried to rid themselves of their clothing, the only barriers dividing them. Within moments, Jamie had pulled his shirt over his head and was helping Claire remove his borrowed one between feverish kisses. Their hands wandered, exploring the plains and curves of each other’s bodies, mapping the terrain of this foreign landscape. As her fingers trailed further and further down tracing the ridges of his chiseled abdomen, she found the drawstring of his pants. She deftly untied the laces before shucking the soft fabric down over his hips and onto the floor.

 

Jamie stood before her, now completely naked and his need plainly on display with his cock swollen, fully erect. Embolden by lust, Claire reached for him, taking him fully in her hands and stroking him until he was shaking with need ( _her name falling from his lips in breathy sighs, prayers to her - his deity to worship_ ). When he could take no more, he pulled her closer, his long arms snaking around her waist and lifting her into the air before he eased them both back onto the bed.

 

Now settled in his lap, Claire flexed her hips, pressing herself into him, seeking out any friction that might bring about any release to the tension that threatened to break free. Simultaneously, they hissed at the discovery of this new sensation ( _teasing yet not quite satisfying_ ), and she rolled her body over him again and again. With each cycle, she cried out, driving herself into a never ending frenzy that ignited the flame within her but would never quench it.

 

“Christ, I can feel every inch of ye…” Jamie groaned into her shoulder, his teeth sinking into her skin blurring the lines between pleasure and pain. _“... yer **sae** wet.” _

 

Though her skin was already flushed rosy pink from excretion, Claire’s cheeks burned - half embarrassed yet half driven mad with desire. The light scrape of Jamie’s stubble against her skin teamed with his wanton confession in his ( _incredibly sexy_ ) Scottish burr nearly sent her over the edge, keening loudly in his ear as she ground her hips harder and harder against him.When she thought she could take no more, he wound his hand through her hair, his fingers tangled in her curls, and silenced her moans with a kiss. His teeth nipped at her lips as he deftly flipped her onto her back.

 

Lust blurred Claire’s vision yet heightened her other senses, as Jamie appeared to be everywhere at once. He was hovering above her, kissing and sucking at the sensitive flesh where her neck met her collar bone ( _the scent of him - cedar, leather bound books, and whisky - surrounding her in a hazy veil that was entirely Jamie_ ). He was next to her at her breast, pulling her nipples tight between his teeth ( _all while moaning his praises of her perfect breasts_ ). He was below her, nimble fingers removing her underwear and delving inside her, nearly making her come undone with a single touch When the pad of his thumb brushed against her clit ( _the slightly calloused nature of his hands grazing her sensitive nerves in the most delicious way_ ) she swore loudly as stars bloomed behind her eyes.

 

 _“Claire,”_ Jamie murmured above her, his voice thick and low.

 

She opened her eyes, not realizing that they had closed of their own accord in the first place. She met Jamie’s gaze, his lids narrowed and his irises dark with desire. A question lingered between them as Jamie sought permission though Claire had already granted it. She reached for him, brushing a loose tendril from his brow.

 

“Do it _now…_ ” she begged, _“... and don’t be gentle.”_

 

Jamie nodded slightly before his hand dipped below his waist and guided himself home. Twin sighs escaped their lips as they paused in stillness, savoring the feeling of this new connection, leaving them both panting and shaking at the intensity of it all. Slowly, he pulled back before driving into her again, this time filling her to the hilt. Claire felt herself shaking, the pressure building inside of her so great and intense and yet, she wanted… _needed_... more.

 

She wound her limbs around his frame, clinging to him, drawing herself closer to him all at once. Her fingers clawed at the skin on his back as her legs wrapped around his waist, spurring him on with each roll of his hips. Wave after wave crashed over Claire, bringing her closer to the brink. It wouldn’t take long… once… twice… three times more Jamie thrust into her, strangled cries falling from his lips. When Claire suddenly arched herself, angling herself so the head of him hit just the _right_ spot, she shuddered and moaned against him, ecstasy washing over her and bathing her in release. She barely heard Jamie tumble afterward, his own ending crashing down as Ghaidhlig expletives burst from his lungs.

 

_Tha mi ‘n dùil sgàin mo chridhe._

 

In her post coital high, Claire barely registered her surroundings as sleep threatened to take her. The sound of her own blood thundering through her ears punctuated by her own heaving breathing nearly blocked out any other sound in the world. Through the dreamy haze of it all, a low chuckle beside her caught her off guard.

 

“Hmm,” she sighed. “What did you just say?”

 

Jamie snorted, “I thought my heart was goin’ tae burst… Sassenach.”

 

**_“Oh.”_ **

 

Claire rolled towards him, resting her head on his shoulder as his arms pulled her closer to his chest. Drawing the blankets around them, Jamie tucked them both in, creating a warm little cocoon to shelter them both from the cold winter’s night. As her breathing slowed and her heart found an even rhythm once more, she found herself oddly at ease. In her youth, completely reckless actions (such as getting entirely smashed and hooking up with a stranger) would have left her mortified, wracked with nerves and unable to relax. With with legs and hearts now intertwined, they finally drifted off to sleep.

 

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will happen when Jamie and Claire wake up in bed... together...

_The next morning…_

 

The blizzard outside covered the surrounding city in a thick blanket of snow, and any offending noise was muffled by its weight, creating the perfect sleeping conditions for those nestled in the warm confines of their lodgings. Claire slept soundly that night, lulled gently into the languid confines of dreamland in a satiated, whisky drunk haze. Once her lids drowsily fluttered closed, almost nothing could rouse her from her comfortable state, safely nestled in the bow of Jamie’s arms.

 

_Almost…_

 

Around what felt like dawn, Claire stirred, her body writhing beneath the soft cotton sheets. Dreams flooded not only her vision but all of her senses as well, every nerve ending within her body prickling beneath her skin. She was outside in the clearing of a forest somewhere. Branches from the surrounding pine trees framed the overcast sky above, the thick green fringe slicing through the thick matting of cotton clouds. It was snowing again. The icy crystals twirled to the ground, swirling around Claire in their own intricate ballet before landing softly on her skin. As the frozen flakes met her heated flesh, they melted instantly, transforming into cool droplets of water rolling down the curves of her body. A breeze kicked up, drying the moisture from her skin all while sending a chill rolling her down her spine and jolting her awake.

 

_Ooohhh…_

 

Her eyelids fluttered, stuttering as they tried to open fully straining against the cold, harsh light of mid-morning. Claire shivered in the cold as her hands found the sheets rumpled around her waist. As her hands drifted lower and lower down her abdomen, her fingers tangled with soft red curls, discovering Jamie’s lips hovering just above her hip bone. Reality slowly dawned on her as her bed mate ventured further south, drawing the flesh of her inner thigh between his teeth.

 

_Aaaah…_

 

It was definitely morning - Claire had registered that much from the fierce daylight staining their hotel room a deep coral, a rich color to match the blood oranges of the Amalfi coast. It was probably snowing, and not just in her dreamscape but in the real world that surrounded her as the crystalline clean smell of winter flooded her nose to the point she could taste the flakes on her tongue. She was bloody freezing - her skin pebbling to goose flesh in the hotel’s crisp air… from the absence of _his_ touch. When she shivered, Jamie’s hands rose from the blankets, caressing her limbs and warming her against the winter’s chill.

 

Jamie…

 

Her brain faltered, stumbling over the syllables of his name as his tongue deftly navigated the geography of her body. Jamie’s kisses negotiated Claire to roll to her back as his large hands parted her thighs. His right hand firmly held her hip in place as his left ventured north, massaging her breast and rolling her nipple within his fingers until she was arching off the mattress. When his tongue met her heated flesh, she melted, turning to liquid just like the snowflakes in her dream.

 

She should’ve been ashamed, embarrassed of her sleep-ridden state ( _the tangled bird’s nest of her riotous curls, the mascara smudged beneath her lower lids, the stale scent of her skin against the hotel sheets_ )... and yet, she couldn’t care less, let alone find the space to think.

 

With Jamie’s face buried between her thighs, Claire could barely find a coherent thought in her mind as his lips brushed the most sensitive part of her again and again. Her own heart pounded behind her ribs, her pulse thundering in her ears like a chorus of relentless bodhrans. The sound grew louder and louder, until it echoed off the walls of their hotel room.

 

 _“Housekeeping!”_ A shrill voice called between the rapping knocks at their door.

 

Claire’s cheeks flushed red as she opened her mouth to speak, to apologize for the late hour… only for Jamie’s hand to seal it shut.

 

 _“Aye… come back later!”_ He called from the center of her, the triangle of her thighs. His stubble rasped against the sensitive skin of her legs and sent her reeling at the sensation, nipping at the fingers that bade her silent.

 

 _“Jamie…”_ Claire whined, thrashing against his limbs as she propped herself upward. “It’s nearly **noon!** Aren’t you hungry?”

 

As she tilted her chin to meet his gaze, his blue eyes flashed his mischief. He quirked a ruddy brow and a smirk graced his lips before he bowed before her, his lips dipping well below her waist.

 

“Och _aye…_ ” he growled, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.

 

He found the most sensitive part of her, drawing the nub of flesh between his teeth as his fingers delved inside her. Claire felt her bones turned to liquid as she surrendered to his touch. Wave after wave of pleasure racked her body as the snow continued to fall outside, and once she came to her senses, she rose, flipping Jamie onto his back to return the favor he had just given unto her…

 

_Besides… it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to go..._

 

_**Let it snow… let it snow… let it snow…** _

 

_**~complete~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all of your lovely feedback and encouragement throughout this fic!


End file.
